Chapter 3
His ears detected a rhythmic drumming down the corridor behind him and he froze. His hand sought and found the smooth surface of the wall. He steadied himself, focusing his attention behind, trying to calm the frenetic pulsing in his chest. He knelt, careful to keep his tattered robe from snagging anything in the murky stillness.
He clamped his jaws shut against the desire to suck in more air. He forced himself to take small, measured breathes, counting each one, holding to a sedate cadence. Gradually he brought his anxious body under control and held himself, crouched rigid, trying to detect the source of the noise.
There it was again- distant, enigmatic, mocking. His mind reached through the darkness toward the noise, trying to ascertain its intent. Was it malignant? Should he run?
His head spun reflexively as the intrusive thrumming leapt to the passageway ahead. His throat tightened as he huddled, willing himself not to panic. They had surrounded him. How? He had managed to stay beyond their grasp, but the day had come, as he always knew that it would.
He let out a long breathe, realizing that his lungs were beginning to burn from their depleted state. He jumped and moved to a defensive posture when the noise came again, this time from mere steps away.
Then he recognized it. He stood suddenly as relief washed through him. A jolt of pain shot down his spine as his head collided with the low stone ceiling of the passageway. He rubbed his head, wincing, but his relief was a powerful salve. He resumed his course down the tunnel, head ducked low, and smiled as a drop of cold water landed on his exposed neck.
The rocky surface of the Erascan Valley posed a difficult problem for the early settlers. What soil accumulated in the hollows and crevices of the brittle plain was always reduced to a sloppy mineral soup by the constant seepage of the enormous aquifer that the flinty surface encased.
For an agrarian civilization, soil was life, and this valley was devoid of anything arable. Lisean, the land's original representative, had come up with an interesting solution. Rather than attempt to transport or synthesize loam, he taught the early settlers to carve. He introduced them to refractology and showed them how to use gylebrium crystal to create the famed light chisels of the Derridians. Each chisel was comprised of six slender spires of the translucent mineral, strapped with thin copper wire in an evenly-spaced hexagonal pattern around a core of heartwood.
With these tools, which focused the energy of the planet's twin suns, the Derridians became experts at carving and excavation. The settlers began to transform the barren landscape in a systematic manner. They dug large, precise quarries, utilizing the mined basalt to construct their houses, shops and schools. As they pulled rock from the ground, water seeped up from below to take its place.
Over the course of several millennium, the valley, which measured several thousand kilocubits across, filled with a grid-like patchwork of square water features all five cubits deep.
The surface of each of these pools was covered with some type of aquaformed produce. From the deep purple leaves of the rhubina plant to the milky white fronds of the bowanta, the water of the valley had grown into an impressive agricultural landscape that expanded as the population and needs of its people grew.
Harvesting these aquatic gardens combined the best of agriculture and engineering. When an aquafield reached maturity, the water would be drained, via the intricate network of tunnels that linked every pool. Given the porous nature of the native stone, these passageways had to be sealed every season with a special polymer that kept them dry.
When a lock was opened at the end of a tunnel, water flooded the chamber through a hatch. After draining a pool, the hatch would close and the aquafield was left to dry. A hatch on the opposite passage opened, workers came in and loaded the plants, which rested on an elevated grate, into small wheeled vehicles, and moved the harvested crop through the tunnels to the district's warehouse, where it was brought to the surface via the produce elevators.
Workers scattered seed on the exposed surface of the pool and reopened the lock, beginning the process again. Crops were cycled so that each district would have three harvests per anum, insuring that there was always an abundance and variety of produce available to the Derridian citizenry. Joset had explained that this abundance was what the natives celebrated during their many celebration feasts.
He had not really been interested in the history lesson, but was grateful for the tunnels that these people used to harvest their crops. Joset had shown him through a portion of the maze during the daylight hours, when light was filtered beneath the surface through holes bored at regular intervals and filled with large gylebrium rods. As he worked his way through the labyrinth now, no such light was present.
He did not dare create any artificial illumination as he crept along. The portholes would amplify any luminescence and send up a beacon, announcing his presence to anyone above who might be paying attention. And he was sure that someone would be paying attention. So he slithered along in the dark, like some sort of vole, listening for any sound that might signal his end. He just hoped that he was going the right way. It felt right, but in this dungeon it was difficult to be sure of anything. Except that he could make out the shape of the wall. It was faint, but as the minutes stretched, the void grew murky, then shaded, and finally fully visible. As he crawled out of the tunnel he swore to himself that he would never hide underground again.
The air in the grove shimmered with energy and potential. The energy wafting on the air, on the edge of the visual spectrum, was the lifeblood of the cosmos pulsing through Derrida, by way of the grove, uniting it to the greater universe. The potential was the relative proximity of everything in the grove. Between the trees a million light years was one step. Between the trees was escape.
But the potential of the grove was blocked from him. When he had arrived on this rocky world two days earlier, he walked with self-assurance out of the trees and down the main avenue that descended into the heart of the city.
He had arrived with such high expectations. Joset had been a close friend when they were at the academy. They had kept in touch through the years and occasionally took holidays together. He had believed that his old friend would be sympathetic to his cause. They had shared similar views, held similar skepticism, harbored similar doubts.
But Joset had not been sympathetic. He had, in fact, been anything but. And now he was being forced to flee again.
He peered through a crevice in the crag that concealed him. He was still several hundred paces from the entrance. It was odd to see two Seraphim, replete in their ruby armor, standing guard to the grove.
On most days, traffic ran unimpeded through this place, but now no one was being permitted to leave the planet, and the only travelers were squads of arella who came in a periodic, but constant stream, into the city.
He did not recognize the two sentries, who stood upright, their gleaming diamond swords unsheathed and held aloft before them, slender blades blazing like resplendent prisms catching the first rays of morning.
He stared at the dazzling weapons knowing that their power could easily stop him from passing. With those blades, the two Seraphim could harness the latent energy of the path and direct it to blind, shield or even destroy.
Although he knew that they would not use their swords to destroy, being bound and captured would be as bad, maybe worse. He considered trying out his precious treasure, but he needed to know exactly how it functioned first. He contemplated cloaking himself, but knew this was foolish. He could hide his body, but his aura would be easy for them to spot.
The thought made him duck back behind the rock instinctively. His aura should be hidden from view by the dense basalt and distance, but Seraphim were renowned for their keen perception.
He huddled for a long moment, trying to stave off the growing feelings of hopelessness and fear that had been building over the past weeks. How far he had fallen in that time. He looked down at his dirty hands, nails
caked in grime, and wiped them on his robe, but the sticky residue of organic ooze defied his attempts. He gave up, disgusted, and peeked over the edge to survey the surrounding terrain. He would find a way to get off this detestable hunk of rock.
Malek watched the new arrivals step down onto the rocky shelf below. The layer of decomposed leaves and twigs rose several feet above the stony ground, making the first steps onto Derrida somewhat treacherous.
All morning long, small teams had been arriving, dispatched from Mount Kol.
'This must be serious,' his partner, Cali, said nervously.
Cali had only recently graduated from the academy and had the overwhelmed look that first-time fielders always got.
He looked at Malek and asked, 'Does this happen often?'
'Never,' Malek answered honestly, understanding the bewildered expression on Cali's face.
He tried to think of any incident that would serve as a point of comparison, but couldn't. It was a reminder of how far outside of normal this situation was.
‘I've never heard of anyone running when summoned by the Kings. It is insane. He took off and hasn't been seen since. There have been several reports of sightings and a number of rumors that turned out to be false, but this looks like it might be the real thing. By later today this world will be covered with Seraphim. I believe our runner is running out of room,' Malek said, wondering again at the audacity that led to a representative blatantly disregarding a summons.
'Do you know why he was called?' Cali asked.
'Nothing but rumors, and those aren’t worth repeating,' he answered.
The Seraphim squad disappeared into the morning fog that lay over the city. Soon the sound of marching feet also faded under the muffling cloak. Only a deep stillness and the rocky expanse stretched before them, broken by the occasional outcrop of jagged stone.
Malek's eyes ran across the open plain and followed the horizon up the steep rise to the west where the base of Mount Erascus ascended dramatically from the valley floor. The rocky spires were harsh and angular, mottled vividly in black and red, like the spiny back of a giant Alerian Dragon. Halfway up the nearest peak, something reflected in the early rays of dawn that were cresting the higher peaks of the central mountain.
Malek studied the spot intently. The surrounding rock showed no evidence of quartz deposits. He blinked and rubbed his eyes, reasoning that he was seeing some trick of the light. No, there was something there. His keen eyes detected a slight movement and the faint hue of sapphire.
'Cali, you stay here. I see something on that bluff. I'm going to see what it is. Signal me if you have any problems. I'll be back in a moment.'
He took two quick steps and contracted his wings, rapidly rising above the valley. Small pockets of the morning haze were rising and the moisture clung to his skin as he passed through the murky blanket. He broke free into dazzling sunlight and flew toward the dancing lights ahead. He looked back toward Cali but a low hanging cloud concealed all but the top of the tree where his friend stood.
He quickly covered the distance to the mountain and as he neared the spot, he could see something blue wafting gently before the face of the cliff. It hung, somehow suspended and rotating slowly, causing shards of light in a dozen shades of azulian splendor to climb in a symmetrical arch up the stony backdrop.
Malek landed just feet from the object, but the blast of air from his descent did nothing to disturb the methodical orbit of what appeared to be a large gemstone. He looked closer and saw that it was a perfect sapphire. Realization dawned on him suddenly. He reached for it and grasped its faceted circumference, pulling gently.
He tugged, but it resisted. He pulled harder and it moved toward him grudgingly, stretching against some invisible bind. Malek redoubled his efforts and felt the bands that held the gem give way slowly, then snap.
A blast of white light hit his face and drove him backward, stumbling. He fell to the ground as a flash of pain seared his vision, then swept him away on a sea of darkness.
Tail of the Dragon Page 4
